


Strange Bedfellows

by OrilliaOrange



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, roommates au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3342398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrilliaOrange/pseuds/OrilliaOrange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra Pentaghast needs a new roommate. Trevelyan has a solution- Varric Tethras. Author, and general pain in the ass.</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The apartment was a small one, two bedrooms, one which had an ensuite bathroom, and a combination living room and kitchen. Despite that, it was clean and well taken care of. Cassandra surveyed the space, which had been hers and Galyan's for so long, and was now only hers. Without his things, the apartment seemed spartan, which suited Cassandra well enough. 

Trevelyan's staccato knock broke the silence, and as usual Cassandra's best friend let themselves in. Trailing behind her was a man Cassandra assumed was the newest candidate for her roommate. 

Trailing was probably the wrong word. It implied shyness, Cassandra thought, and the man who strolled into her apartment was not shy. Cassandra wracked her brain for the right word. Indolent. That was it. Possibly closer to smarmy. 

"Varric Tethras," he said, holding out a large hand. Cassandra noted that she stood at least head and shoulders above him, though as Trevelyan was always quick to remind her, she towered over most people. Despite the difference in their height, his hand dwarfed hers. Thick, square fingers with neat nails, a distant part of her brain noted, dusted with fine, gingery hair.

Wait. Had he said Varric Tethras? The author? 

Cassandra thought of the nearly complete collection of Swords and Shields novels sitting in her room, and blanched. 

"Cassandra Pentaghast."

"Seeker! You're leaving out all the fun bits!" Trevelyan interrupted with a shit eating grin "Cassandra Filomena Calogera Allegra Portia..." 

A quick glare from Cassandra cut Trevelyan off in the middle of their incorrect listing of all Cassandra's horrible middle names. 

“Seeker?” Varric asked, clearly interested. 

“Its a silly nickname” Cassandra said, shortly.

“She’s a cop” Trevelyan spoke over Cassandra, “She’s always lookin’ for things. So, Seeker.”

Cassandra grunted, annoyed. 

"So Varric. Cassandra has a room to let, you need a place to stay while you're here..." Trevelyan gestured expansively. "Not a bad match."

"When do you move the rest of your stuff in?" Varric asked. 

Bristling, Cassandra shot him a dirty look. "I already live here."

"Wow. Love what you've done with the place." Varric's gaze swept the living room while Cassandra glowered behind him, feeling oddly defensive. 

A quick look from Trevelyan silenced Cassandra's next remark. Trevelyan managed to convey in a look and a few discreet gestures that Varric was the only applicant left, and that Cassandra couldn't afford her apartment alone for much longer. 

"Would you like to see the other room?" Cassandra asked, barely reining in her temper. Of course the author of her favourite series had to be unpleasant. 

"Lead the way, Cassandra." Varric swept a mocking half bow, and followed Cassandra down the hall. 

Any evidence of its former occupant had been eradicated. The walls were white, like the rest of the apartment, and the only window was covered by plain white curtains. 

"Very inviting" was Varric's only comment, and Cassandra could hear the laughter in his voice.

Trevelyan jabbed Cassandra in the ribs, giving her a significant look. 

"Of course you are allowed to decorate the room as you like." Cassandra said. 

"Not a bad space." Varric looked the room over again, and seemed to come to a decision. "I'll take it."

Again, Varric stuck his hand out, a small smile curling his lips when Cassandra hesitated slightly. 

"Congrats" Trevelyan said as Cassandra resigned herself and shook Varric's hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roommate issues, bad weather, and bad choices.

Four months later, Cassandra found herself waging a small war against Varric. The man's possessions encroached. There was no better explanation. Small pockets of colour and clutter began appearing in the common room, making Cassandra seethe.

It wasn't that she disliked his possessions. They were interesting, a colourful knit blanket bordered with bright green leaves, piles of well thumbed books, a few framed photographs, none of which had Varric in them. That sort of thing. It was more that Varric's presence asserted itself strongly. There was very little of Cassandra in the apartment, except the austerity of the white walls. Which had been what she’d tried to achieve in the first place, having removed all Galyan’s remaining things to charity shops, and painting the whole apartment white, but having achieved her goal, Cassandra found herself unsatisfied with the result.

As a roommate, Varric was otherwise the perfect specimen. He kept to himself, and did not often have friends over. Nor was he prone to leaving mess behind him, or any other obnoxious behaviour. As a roommate, Cassandra couldn’t fault him, which made her irritated since as a person she found him frustrating. The man was alternately flippant and defensive. Any attempt to know him was met with a sarcastic remark, or if the timing was off, a harsh one.

So it was that they danced around each other, Cassandra’s pride and temper often clashing with Varric’s own pride and quick wit.

Not that he was smarter, Cassandra amended. Varric had a quicker tongue, that was all.

“Pentaghast, you finished that report yet?”

“I am almost finished, sir.” Cassandra replied, glad that her computer screen was between herself and the Detective Sergeant.

“Hurry up and send the damn thing off, then head home.”

“Sir, my shift’s not done for another hour! Surely-”

“Weather’s only getting worse, Pentaghast. Get home.” the Detective Sergeant said gruffly, heading back into his office. Cassandra watched him go, and smothered a small smile.

Outside the station windows, snow was falling with surprising viciousness.

Frowning, Cassandra turned back to her report. Sometimes the words simply didn’t want to work the way she wanted. While it wasn’t enough of a problem to affect her work, her reports always left something to be desired.

 

_____________________________

 

Unsurprisingly the drive home from the station had been rotten. Every winter it was the same. People seemed surprised by the sudden snowstorms, and drove as though they’d never seen the stuff. After the third person fishtailed in front of her, Cassandra’s temper was short.

At the apartment complex, Cassandra parked her car and fought through the snow (which was well on its way to being a blizzard) to the foyer, where the elevators were out of order. Sighing, Cassandra headed towards the stairs, dreading the smell and the fifteen flights of stairs ahead of her.

Finally reaching her floor, her mood no better than it had been on the ground floor, Cassandra was ready to fall into her bath, curl up with the newest chapter of Swords and Shields (Varric had let her know a package had arrived for her, that was the only thing it could be), and ignore the world.

It had taken some time to reconcile Varric-Her-Roommate with Varric-The-Author, but Cassandra had managed, mostly by forcibly ignoring the fact that they were the same person.

“You’d better go before someone misses you, Bianca.” Varric said.

Cassandra stopped dead in her tracks. She’d never heard her roommate sound anything less than confident. He sounded lost, instead.

Varric stood in the doorway to their apartment, a young woman in a hooded jacket stood in the hallway, and made to touch him before deciding better of it. Without a word, she turned away and walked past Cassandra.

“I…”

“Leave it, Seeker.” Varric said, turning away.

“Your girlfriend?” Cassandra hazarded a guess. It was so unusual to see Varric less than his usual swaggering self.

“I said drop it. Or are we going to start talking about our love lives?” Varric said. “Going to tell me all about your conquests, Cassandra?”

“I was only asking!” Cassandra defended.

“Hardly. It’s not any of your damn business, Cassandra.” Varric sneered, storming down the hallway.

Left in the pooling light from their open door, Cassandra stared after Varric, rage thrumming in her veins.

The urge to run after the irritating little shit was almost more than Cassandra’s self restraint could take, and she took a few steps down the hall before reining her anger in. She satisfied herself instead with stalking into the apartment and kicking the kitchen table as she passed it on her way to her room.

At least now she had the apartment to herself.


	3. Chapter 3

“What!? NO!” Cassandra stared down at her book. Lemon scented steam wreathed the bathroom, candles guttering in their holders. No amount of staring could change the fact that her book had ended on a cliffhanger.

 

“Ugh.” Thunking her head back against the tiles, Cassandra slid her book onto the counter and sunk down into the warm water.

 

One of the tea lights blinked out. Taking this as a sign she’d lounged in the bath long enough, Cassandra unfolded herself from the (somewhat small) tub and grabbed her towel. Despite the frustration of a cliffhanger ending, she felt much more relaxed than she had a few hours before.

 

Dry, and clad in a wine red robe, Cassandra drained the tub and padded down the hall to her room, taking a quick look out the balcony windows as she passed. Snow was falling fast and thick, almost obliterating anything more than three feet away.

 

Cassandra pursed her lips, unwilling to admit that she was a little worried about Varric. Hopefully he’d found somewhere safe to stay, it wasn’t fit for man or beast outside.

 

Even if he could be an ass, no one deserved to freeze.

 

Visions of cars skidding off the road flew through Cassandra’s head. In weather like this, it was too easy to slide off the road, or to get into an accident due to another driver’s idiocy.

 

Without thinking, Cassandra picked up her phone. Stared at it. Put it back down on her dresser. Pulled her pyjamas on, picked the phone back up, and checked her messages. Cassandra’s finger hovered over the last message Varric had sent her.

 

He was fine. Out at some friend’s house complaining about his roommate, no doubt. Or at a bar.

 

It wasn’t as though he’d never stayed out overnight before.

 

Cassandra brushed and re-braided her hair, then glared at her reflection in disgust as she picked up her phone and sent Varric a quick text before she could regret it.

 

Ridiculous. Totally absurd that she worried about the stupid ass.

 

Her phone lay on the dresser, silent.

 

With a sigh, Cassandra tucked it into her pocket as she did her nightly tour of the apartment, checking to make sure all the doors and windows were tightly shut and locked.

 

Retreating back into her room, Cassandra plugged her phone in and set it on the night table by her bed. Its screen lit up, displaying a new message dated a few minutes before.

 

Silent mode. Right.

  
  


**Varric Tethras** 12:55AM

                                                                                      Thx Seeker. U2

  
  


God damn the man.

 

Cassandra flopped back on her bed, angrily flipped her phone face down and gave it a dirty look for good measure.

  
  


__________________________

  
  


“And that’s the round, folks.” Varric scraped his winnings into the already enormous pile in front of him, while his friends groaned.

 

“Cheating, dwarf.” Fenris glared.

 

“That is hurtful language, Broody. I am hurt. Grievously.” Varric intoned.

 

“Behave, you two. Even if Varric is a cheater, and short, there’s no  need for name calling.” Isabela said.

 

“Pfft. You’re just glad I’m around so no one notices you cheating, Rivaini.” Varric rolled his eyes. “How many cards you got stashed on your person?”

 

“Want to come try and find them?” Isabela asked, lifting one dark eyebrow as she leaned against Hawke.

 

“Sorry, Rivaini. I’m taken, and so are you.” Varric winked at Hawke.

 

Hawke considered Varric a moment, grinning at Isabela. “Dunno, be lying if I said I’d never thought about it.”

 

“I need an adult.”

 

Merrill laughed, bright and tinkling. “You ARE an adult, Varric!”

 

“A better adult, then.” Varric took a swig from his beer, relaxed.

 

On the table, his phone lit up and vibrated.

 

“That is the most obnoxious vibration ever, Varric.” Hawke said.

 

Varric picked up his phone, and felt his eyebrows climb off his forehead in surprise. It was entirely possible all the beer had messed with his vision, Varric thought.

 

                                                                                          **Seeker** 12:50PM

                                                                                          Stay safe.

 

“Huh.”  It was definitely Seeker, though why she’d wanted to send him a message at all was a mystery. Their texts were reserved for the usual roommate shit, and after their little spat at the apartment, he was honestly amazed she’d bothered to text him at all.

 

Thinking about that made him feel a little guilty.

 

“Good news, Varric?” Hawke asked, eyes sharp despite all the drink.

 

“Nah, just a text from my roomie. Nothing big.” Texting back a quick message, Varric stashed his phone in his pocket. “How about another round? Let’s make it a little more challenging this time, huh?”

 

“Your roommate still scary, Varric?” Isabela said.

 

“Terrifying. Put that card back.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me! A short update while I work through some bugs in the next chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

Probably the worst thing about shift work was the way it messed with your sleep schedule, Cassandra thought, face buried in her pillow.

 

Outside it was still grim, with only the faintest hint of light to indicate that it was technically morning. The snow had stopped, and the snowplows were busy at work. Mostly that work involved making an almighty racket, Cassandra gathered.

 

Resigning herself to being awake, Cassandra fumbled for her phone, knocked one of her books off the bedside table, and cursed. Taking a peek at the time displayed in cheery numbers on her phone, she cursed again, picked up her book, and had to stifle a growl of irritation.

 

A cliffhanger and written by Varric.

 

Worse still, the most recent book had been published almost three years before. Cassandra knew Varric had written other books. There had been two new Hard in Hightown novels since, and another on the way, according to a recent interview. Varric had to be working on a new Swords and Shields, too. He just had to be.

 

With a sigh, Cassandra peeled herself out of bed. The apartment was quiet, which was a change. Usually she could count on the muffled sound of Varric’s snores to break the silence.

 

For a small man, he made a great deal of noise.

 

Not that Varric was small. Certainly shorter than her, but most people were. Even some of the men in her platoon were shorter, and they didn’t have Varric’s broadness.

 

Moving through her morning stretches with ease, Cassandra worked through her usual routine until she was sweating and out of breath.

  
He was broad, Cassandra thought on her way to the shower. Not the kind of stature one achieved through laziness. Though she’d never seen him exercise, so how he managed that was a mystery.

 

Sorting through the clutter of bottles in the shower caddy, Cassandra found her shampoo, and made a mental note to ask if Varric could weed out what did and did not need to be in the shower.

 

That woman he’d been talking to the night before. Lover? That seemed most likely. If she’d been a family member or a friend, Varric wouldn’t have been so defensive. Cassandra took a few slow breaths, calming herself. They had both said some cruel things. Tried to think objectively. A lover made the most sense. An out of town girlfriend, maybe? Regardless, Cassandra mused, they’d been arguing.

 

Not that it was difficult to argue with him. She and Varric argued as easily as breathing.

 

Back in her room, Cassandra dressed, picked up a book, and headed to the kitchen.

 

At least it was full day now. A grey, sleeting day.

 

Midway through breakfast, the front door creaked open. Cassandra stayed in her place at the table, book propped open. Varric’s heavy footsteps paused in the entryway, his boots clattered to the floor, and Cassandra sighed. Within a few seconds, Varric appeared in the kitchen, dishevelled and damp. With none of his usual smoothness, Varric grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filled it with orange juice, and drained it in one long gulp.

 

“Seeker. You’re up early. Lying in wait to question me more?” Varric said, his voice gravelly. “Don’t you need someone to be the good cop?”

 

“I am not planning on interrogating you, Varric.” Cassandra said, pretending to read.

 

“No? Damn, there goes my morning.”

 

“You are my roommate, Varric. Not a suspect.” Cassandra closed her book, annoyed. “If this is about last night-”

 

“Do I get to question you about your love life, Seeker?” Varric asked, leaning against the counter. “Let me guess. Trevelyan? Pretty cute.”

 

“We’re friends.” Cassandra answered shortly.

 

“Good for you.” Varric’s look of studied boredom made Cassandra’s blood boil. “Seriously, no lovers? Nothing? Can’t tell me you haven’t broken a few hearts. Or are there only friends?”

 

“And the woman last night? A friend, Varric? Or did I interrupt a lover’s quarrel?” Cassandra spat. “Tell me, was she tired of listening to you insult her?”

 

“The fuck would you know about people, Seeker?” Varric snorted. “You couldn’t even find a roommate without Trevelyan’s help.”

 

“You fucking worm!” Cassandra slammed both hands on the kitchen table, with enough force to send her glass spinning to the floor.

 

“Hell of a temper, Seeker.” Varric quipped, stalking out of the kitchen.

 

Cassandra stared after him, breath coming hard. Slowly she sank back down in her chair, gaze fixed on a midpoint on the far wall. He was just so irritating.

  
Sunlight glittered off the shards of glass on the floor. Bitterly regretting her burst of ill temper, Cassandra found the broom and dustpan. Dumping the glass in the garbage, Cassandra washed her hands and decided to spend the day at Trevelyan’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading this, and sending me comments! I appreciate every one of you.


	5. Chapter 5

Seeker slammed around the apartment, and shut the front door with a crash that rattled the pictures on Varric’s walls.

 

Just like her, Varric thought sourly, and set about working on the next chapter of Hard in Hightown.

 

After sitting in front of his laptop most of the day, Varric sent a look of pure loathing at the computer screen, before shutting everything down without saving. Three lousy sentences, in all that time. It was a goddamn waste.

 

A sharp jab of pain burned its way from one side of Varric's skull to the other. Cradling his throbbing head in both hands, Varric bitterly regretted drinking past his limit the night before. For a few hours though, he’d been able to pretend that the biggest problem in his life was Rivaini cheating at cards and teasing him about his “scary cop roommate”.

 

His scary cop roommate who’d been about three seconds away from jumping over the table and beating the shit out of him.

 

Not that he didn’t deserve it.

 

Bianca’s face, sad and solemn as he sent her away.

 

Seeker, angry and hurt. Eyes flashing, cheeks flushed.

 

Varric’s guts twisted.

 

“I’m an asshole.”

 

The silent apartment seemed to agree with him.

 

  
_______________________________________

  


Spending the day at Trevelyan’s had become spending the night at Trevelyan’s. Josephine, Trevelyan’s roommate, had come home armed with an open ear, a diplomatic personality, and red wine. All of which Cassandra had appreciated. Particularly when Trevelyan let something slip over the third bottle of wine. Something interesting.

 

The mysterious Bianca was Varric’s ex girlfriend. His _married_ ex girlfriend.

 

Of course Trevelyan had clapped a hand over their mouth, appalled at their little mishap. After sending Josie an appallingly pathetic look, Trevelyan had sworn Cassandra to silence. While the revelation that Bianca was married was shocking, it didn’t explain why Varric had been so angry. From what Cassandra could gather, Bianca had been married for several years, so the wound wasn’t a fresh one. Unfortunately, Trevelyan and Josie hadn’t let anything else slip, and Cassandra was loathe to pry.  

 

With a lighter heart, and a battle plan, Cassandra shambled back home in the early afternoon, intent on a shower, a nap, and a civil conversation with Varric. Hopefully in that order. Instead, she found that Varric had absented himself from the apartment. However unconsciously, Varric was spoiling all of Cassandra’s plans to reconcile. He was almost never home, and when he was at the apartment at the same time as Cassandra, any attempt at starting a conversation was met with some flippant response. Worse still was the feeling of being on eggshells around one another. There was a silence that hung in the apartment now, which sent Cassandra’s temper skyrocketing. The man was practically _moping,_ and it set her teeth on edge.

 

After she’d finally snapped at Varric, and he’d responded in kind, it was another three days before they’d calmed down, and Cassandra found herself missing the early days. When they’d managed to be civil, edging towards friendly.

 

It was entirely possible to live in an apartment with someone you didn’t get on with, but that option was unappealing. Whatever could be done to bring them back to civility had to be done soon, Cassandra resolved. Before they lost the chance.

 

_______________________________________

  


Cassandra’s chance came late that evening- long past when she was usually asleep. Something had kept her from rest, and after lying in bed futilely hoping for sleep, Cassandra pulled on her housecoat and headed towards the kitchen for some tea.

 

Setting the kettle to boil, Cassandra fished her favourite mug out from the cupboard, and hunted around the countertop for the infuser, which seemed to be constantly misplaced.

 

The tins of tea arranged on the counter brought a small smile to Cassandra’s face. Regalyan had hated tea, and had never understood how she could spend so much money on “boiled leaf water”.

 

Bracing one hip against the counter, Cassandra watched her tea steep. One of her little indulgences- a strong chai tea from the specialty store downtown. It wasn’t likely to lull her to sleep, but chamomile was an insipid, grassy tasting thing she refused to drink. A cup of tea was just what she-

 

Something on the edge of her vision moved. Cassandra jerked her hand back, and it collided with her mug. Scalding hot tea spilled over the edge, over her hand, and onto the counter.

 

“Your hand okay?” Varric asked, crossing to the counter with a handful of paper towels.

 

“I did not expect to see you.” Cassandra said, as they awkwardly tried to move around the small kitchen space without touching.

 

“Sorry. Guess I fall under your radar, huh Seeker?” The small smile Varric gave her was the first such in days, and seeing it gave Cassandra a little warmth.

 

“I will be fine, after some cold water.” Cassandra assured him.

 

“Back to punching bad guys in the face in no time, Seeker?” Varric said, a little of his usual humour peeking through.

 

Startled, Cassandra laughed.

 

One hand under the tap, Cassandra turned to look at Varric. He looked tired, slouched at the kitchen table. There was a strange sort of intimacy in being awake together when the rest of the world was sleeping. An air of vulnerability, particularly since they were both in their pyjamas. Varric’s hair wasn’t even tied back, falling in red-blond tangles around his face.

 

“I pried, before. I shouldn’t have,” Cassandra said into the silent kitchen. “I… you asked about my relationships.”

 

“You don’t need to…”

 

“Just. Listen. I… haven’t had many serious relationships.” Cassandra smiled, wryly. “My last was a man named Regalyan. ‘Galyan was...he was a good man.”

 

Raking her free hand through her short hair, Cassandra gave Varric a small shrug. “He died, in an accident shortly after we’d separated.”

 

“Seeker. I’m sorry.” Varric said, quiet.

 

“Thank you. It… it has been years. But it still feels strange, sometimes. To know he is gone.” Cassandra broke eye contact with Varric. The kitchen was far too small a space, suddenly.

 

“I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories, Seeker.” Varric said, sounding much closer than he had before. When Cassandra turned around, he was standing behind her with a fresh cup of tea in one hand and a towel in the other.

 

“Here. This first,” Varric offered her the towel, and returned it to the counter when Cassandra had dried her hands. “Your tea?”

 

“Thank you, Varric.” Cassandra gingerly plucked the hot mug from his hands. Their fingers briefly brushed on the handle, and for some reason that felt important.  “I didn’t want to...interrogate you about Bianca. If I do, you’ll know. There’ll be handcuffs, a two way mirror, lots of yelling…”

 

Varric laughed, low and warm. “Sounds like a fun evening.”

 

Cassandra found herself at a loss, having unaccountably been captivated when he’d laughed. Varric’s whole face lit up when he smiled, and there were faint laugh lines etched at the corners of his eyes. They were grey, Cassandra realized. Grey, fringed with dark lashes.

 

“Good night, Varric.” Cassandra drew her housecoat closer, feeling suddenly exposed despite her sensible pyjamas and robe. “Sleep well.”

 

“You too, Seeker.”

  
Cassandra hurried down the hall to her own room, and didn’t see Varric’s expression change to one of deeply entrenched grief.

 

_________________________________

 

Varric stared after Cassandra, and cursed himself. Their small kitchen felt like an exalted place, elevated from the mundane by her presence.

 

How often had they passed one another, sleepy eyed and pyjama clad? Why was it that this time was different? When was it he’d begun thinking of her as Cassandra, not Seeker?

 

Unbidden, the memory of Cassandra’s profile in the kitchen’s dim light sprung into his mind, haloed in soft gold like a medieval icon.

 

Absently, Varric rubbed at his breastbone, feeling a dull ache somewhere behind his ribs.

 

When Bianca had showed up at the apartment, he’d thought seeing her again would be the same as it had always been. That he’d feel that spark, that magnetism that had always drawn them together.

 

It hadn’t happened.

 

Instead of solace, he’d only felt tense, and weirdly guilty.

 

Bianca had only looked at him, in that clinical way she usually reserved for interesting technology, which hadn’t improved his mood. He’d felt like a bug under a microscope, instead of her lover. Something to be taken apart and examined. Sending Bianca away had felt like ripping a piece of his heart out, and if Seeker hadn’t interrupted them, Varric was sure he’d have thrown his dignity to the wind and gone after her.

 

He was exhausted. Stretched thin. Despite fighting with all his strength to keep Bianca, letting her go had felt like taking a deep breath for the first time in years.

 

What did that say about them?

 

What did it say about him that every time he’d seen Cassandra after that, he’d thought of how Bianca had looked when they’d parted. That sad, knowing look. How all he’d been able to do was lash out.

 

How he’d been increasingly aware of Cassandra long before Bianca had come back. Her grouchy face in the morning, the way her eyebrows knit together when she was really concentrating on something. The way she smiled at her novels.

 

Scrubbing one hand over his face, Varric turned to leave the kitchen. In the hallway, light bled from under Cassandra’s door, and Varric hesitated in front of it before opening his own door. Stupid. They were roommates, practically strangers and barely friends. One conversation didn’t change that. Hell, it didn’t even change the fact that they’d been at each other’s throats for days.

  
Besides, Varric reasoned with himself, Seeker had only been apologizing, in her own blunt, honest way. Something he needed to do, too. Figured he was so fucked up after everything with Bianca that even Cassandra’s awkward attempts at camaraderie had his heartstrings in a twist.  A couple weeks, and it would fade. They’d be throwing darts at one another like pros again before the month was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Varric's personal quest "Well, Shit", if you weren't already aware Bianca is married. Thanks for sticking with this fic, everyone!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter Notes

“Rough day?” Varric looked up from his laptop when Cassandra staggered through the door, looking exhausted. She was home later than usual.

 

Much, much later. Not that he’d been worried.

 

“Yes. Very.” Cassandra said, simply. “There was an accident, on the highway. It was not pleasant.”

 

Cassandra sank onto the couch, pulling Daisy’s knit blanket around her shoulders without thinking.

 

“How do you do it, Varric?” she asked, “How do you find the right words? I couldn’t. Nothing _fit_.”

 

“Practice. Hanging out with Hawke, you really get a hold of what language can and can’t do.” Varric said, “The number of times we got in trouble as kids, and I was stuck trying to talk our way out of shit…”

 

“I envy you.” Cassandra sighed.

 

“I am a magnificent specimen.” Varric said, relieved when Cassandra chuckled. She seemed careworn, with the blanket Daisy had made for him wrapped around her shoulders like armour. It was so unlike her, Varric thought. Cassandra was nothing if not vibrant, forceful. Strong. To see her cuddled under a blanket looking wan was doing strange things to his insides.

 

“You look like shit.” Varric said, barreling on before Cassandra could retort. “I feel like shit- this latest novel is going nowhere, so we’re ordering pizza and watching a movie.”

 

“As long as the pizza has pineapples, I won’t fight you, Varric.” Cassandra said from the couch.

 

“You aren’t? Sure you’re not getting sick, Seeker?” Varric dodged a throw pillow, and grinned. “Pineapples on half okay or are you going to throw more pillows at me?”  

 

“There’s only one on the couch.”

 

“Saved by our pitiful home decor.”

 

“What movie did you want to watch?” Cassandra twisted around on the couch to look at him.

 

Taken by surprise, Varric’s mind blanked. Tangled in his blanket with her hair mussed and sticking up, eyes sleepy, Cassandra looked… cute. That was not something he’d expected.

 

“The Princess Bride?” Varric blurted.

 

“The what?” Cassandra’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think I’ve seen that. What’s it about?”

 

“What? Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles…” Varric said in his best Peter Falk impression.

 

Admittedly, it wasn’t a great impression.

 

“It sounds… acceptable.” Cassandra said, voice heavy. “I am surprised at you, Varric. A fairy tale.”

 

“Seeker, have you read my books? The world’s all about stories.”

 

A little alert popped up on Varric’s computer screen, confirming his order and promising that if their food took longer than half an hour to arrive, it would be free.

 

“Pizza will be here in 20, Seeker.” Varric said, then quirked an eyebrow curiously when Cassandra didn’t answer. Standing, Varric twisted a little to get a better look at the couch.

 

Cassandra was asleep. Curled on the couch, cocooned in his blanket with one arm cushioning her head. The fierceness of her face wasn’t softened much in sleep, Varric noticed. Cassandra murmured sleepily, and burrowed her face into the blanket.

 

Sitting back down, Varric stared at his computer screen with a silly grin. He’d wake her up when the pizza arrived. Til then, he had a story that needed re working.

 

____________________________________________

  


“Seeker. She doesn’t die, you know.” Varric said, while Cassandra stared raptly at the screen, pizza slice drooping and forgotten in her hand.

 

“Of course I know. I just cannot believe you chose this… childrens’ movie, Varric.” Cassandra snorted.

 

“I dunno, Seeker. You seem pretty into this kids’ movie.” Varric teased.

 

It was true, near as he could tell. Somehow Seeker had made it to adulthood without ever having seen one of the great classics, and that was a damn shame. Of course, watching her try to hide her interest was hilarious.

 

“Not in the least. I am merely humouring you.” Cassandra said, biting into her pizza.

 

“Well if you aren’t into it, we can always watch something else…” Varric said, reaching for the remote.

  
“No! That… That is not necessary.” Cassandra blurted, eyes wide with alarm. “Ah. I…”

 

She stopped, and Varric looked at her curiously.

 

“I do like it, Varric. It is silly, and I suspect it will only be sillier but it is still an endearing movie.” Cassandra looked over at him, clearly flustered.

 

“See, I wouldn’t have pegged you as the sentimental sort, Seeker.” Varric made an all encompassing gesture. “Badass city cop with a heart of marshmallow.”

 

To his surprise, Cassandra sat up straight and scowled.   
  
“They are not mutually exclusive, Varric! Romance, sentimentality, they are not the province of… of soft and frilly women! I see nothing wrong with having passion, and faith!” Cassandra snapped. “Is it so difficult to believe I might like such things? Or does being a ‘badass city cop’ exclude me from having a heart, or wanting romance?”

 

“Far be it from me to say you aren’t a woman of passion, Seeker.” Varric said, and winced.

 

They settled into a sulky sort of silence, while Varric hit play and Princess Buttercup found herself surrounded by shrieking eels.

 

More often than not, Varric caught himself watching Cassandra, instead of the movie. Not that that was strange, she just made interesting faces. Besides, showing someone one of your favourite movies was always nerve wracking. When Roberts was scolding Buttercup for her infidelity, a dark scowl wrote its way across Seeker’s face, and deepened when Roberts was revealed to be Westley.

 

“Disappointed, Seeker?” Varric had to concede he was a little annoyed himself. “Hell of a way for a love interest to act.”

 

“Despicable, controlling, lying little shit.” Cassandra grumbled.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

When the credits rolled. Cassandra was sitting bolt upright, blanket pooled around her waist. It was funny how seeing someone in a different setting could be so startling, Varric thought.

 

“Well, Seeker?”

 

“It was… not what I expected. Not good, but not terrible.” she sighed, and Varric nodded his understanding.

 

“The bit where Westley threatened to hit Buttercup kind of cooled you on the whole thing? Same.” Varric shrugged one shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

 

“We could try a different movie, some time.” Cassandra offered.

 

“There’s still pizza, and the night’s still young. If you have any suggestions, I’m all ears.” Varric said, lounging on his side of the couch.

 

Cassandra sat still, brows furrowed.

 

“Having trouble, Seeker?” Varric asked. Cassandra’s brow developed another furrow. “Hm. A James Bond movie? Some god awful horror movie? With lots of blood and screaming?”

 

“There’s enough murder in my life already, Varric” Cassandra said.

 

“So that’s a no on any police movies, or suspense movies.”

 

“I don’t mind suspenseful movies. But at the moment? No.”

 

Varric stared at the wall of DVDs. “Okay. That leaves… fantasy, sci-fi, action, and romances.”

 

At the mention of romance movies, Cassandra’s face lit up.

 

“Seeker?”

 

Just as quickly, Cassandra’s expression closed off.

 

“It’s later than I thought, Varric.” Part of the blanket hit him in the leg. “I… it has been a long day. Good night.”

 

Leaving Varric half buried in the blanket, Cassandra stood and made for the hallway. Briefly, she paused in the doorway and Varric felt a slight pull in his chest. As though there was a string fastened behind his ribs, and attached to her.

 

“It was a good movie. I enjoyed myself, thank you.”

 

The quick suggestion of a smile, and she was gone.

 

Pulling the blanket Cassandra had been using around himself, Varric sat in the semi darkness, and turned on some brainless cop show. The blanket was still a little warm, with the scent of Cassandra’s shampoo just barely present.

 

“Pathetic, Tethras. Absolutely pathetic.” Varric muttered, curling under the blanket.

 

________________________________________________

  


Cassandra shut the door to her room, and leaned against it.

 

Stupid. She was so stupid.

 

Why the hell had she run away?

 

She’d been having fun. With Varric of all people. It had been weeks since their talk in the kitchen, since she’d told him about Regalyan and why the hell had she said so much about him in the first place? But things had been better between them, afterwards. She’d come home one night exhausted after over a week of midnights to find a tin of her favourite tea and a spill proof mug on the counter, along with a small note.

 

“I’m an asshole” wasn’t the most straightforward of apologies, and Varric wasn’t off the hook, but it was a kind gesture.

 

So why had she fled back to her room?

 

Cassandra looked at the shelves of romance novels that occupied the far wall of her room. Row after row of trashy, smutty, absurd, wonderful novels she didn’t want to admit to owning.

 

Pride had always been her worst trait.

 

Shoving herself away from the door, Cassandra fussed around her room straightening up the sparse collection of photos, returning books to their proper place.

 

Hadn’t she just told Varric there was no shame in liking romantic things? That she wasn’t ashamed to love romance novels, or romantic movies?

 

Cassandra paused, one of Varric’s novels in hand.

 

It wasn’t shame. It was fear. Fear of the laughter that would follow if anyone knew of her guilty pleasure, if people knew she longed for a fairy tale romance.

 

“Badass city cop with a heart of marshmallow” Varric had said. As though it was so difficult to believe she could be both romantic and tough.

 

The women in his novels never had such a problem. Their love interests always discovered the warm heart that beat under their tough exteriors, saw them as strong and powerful, and didn’t assume that meant they didn’t also need comfort and affection.

 

Thumping the book back on the shelf, Cassandra shot a frustrated look at the wall that separated their rooms. How could the man write such complicated, wonderful women and still be such an ass?

  
Quickly donning her pyjamas, Cassandra felt immensely grateful for the small bathroom attached to her room that meant she wouldn’t have to go back out into the main apartment. Back out to where Varric was. Embarrassing as her sudden exit was, it would be worse to slink back out there and pretend she hadn’t run away from her own roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for The Princess Bride, in case. 
> 
> tumblr's taokan said some lovely and encouraging things, and so this new chapter is for them. Thank you dear. 
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who's been reading this fic so far, I appreciate it greatly. You all make my day better.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric's an idiot, Aveline agrees, Cassandra is tired.

Early Saturday morning, there was a knock at the door, and Cassandra turned over, waiting for Varric to answer before she remembered Varric had gone out the night before. Whoever it was knocked again, and Cassandra cursed fluently before dragging herself out of bed, grabbing her robe on her way to the door. Halfway to the front door, the knock came again, rapidly, insistently.

 

Whatever Cassandra was about to say, she swallowed in favour of staring.

 

Varric was leaning heavily on the arm of a redheaded woman Cassandra vaguely recognized.

 

“Is that blood, Varric?” Cassandra said, eyes narrowed at the splatter of red across Varric’s collar.

 

“Morning, Seeker.” Varric said, attempting a small smile which reopened the cut in his lower lip.

 

Smoothly moving out of the way, Cassandra ushered them in and walked slowly to the bathroom to get their first aid kit. As the mirrored cabinet swung open, Cassandra caught a glimpse of her face, pale and strained.

 

“Aveline. I’m fine, stop fussing.” Varric’s voice floated in from down the hall.

 

“You are not fine! I can’t believe you wound up-” Aveline stood up and clamped her mouth shut, as Cassandra entered the living room. “Aveline. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Cassandra.” Shaking the woman’s outstretched hand, Cassandra shot her roommate a look. Varric looked ready to interject with her middle names, and despite his impressive black eye, and the blood dribbling from the cut on his lip, Cassandra wasn’t prepared to give him any slack.

 

“I feel like letting you two meet was a bad idea.” Varric said from the couch.

 

“You should’ve thought about that before you wound up in a bar fight, Varric.” Aveline said. “What the hell were you thinking?”

 

“Not the face, not the face?” Varric smiled, and winced as both women turned to glare at him.

 

Cassandra dropped the first aid kit in Varric’s lap.

 

“I have to get back to work,” Aveline said, sending an annoyed look at Varric. “Sorry for waking you up.”

 

“Love you too, Red.” Varric waved from the couch.

 

Aveline studied Cassandra for a moment, then smiled. “Aveline Vallen, Staff Sergeant, 14 division. Let me give you my number and my sympathies for having Varric as a roommate.”

 

“Cassandra Pentaghast. Detective, 52 division. I appreciate the sympathy.” Cassandra said, smiling.

 

From the couch, Varric groaned. “This was definitely a bad idea.”

 

“Staff Sergeant… Aveline. He wasn’t booked?” Cassandra asked, in a low voice.

 

“No, showed up at the station with a black eye, bloody nose, a split lip, and a box of doughnuts, the ass.” Aveline rolled her eyes.

 

Cassandra sent Varric a dark look which he pretended to ignore, and let Aveline out of the apartment.

 

Standing in the hallway, Cassandra watched Varric fumble open the first aid kit, and almost went back to bed. In the washed out early morning light, Varric looked terrible. Blood had dried in his stubble, on the collar of his usually impeccable shirt, and the black eye emphasized the shadows under the other eye. Red marks of fading injuries marred Varric’s cheeks, and Cassandra’s eye kept catching on his split lip.

 

“You’re an idiot.” Stalking back to the couch, Cassandra sat down next to Varric and flipped the lid of the first aid kit open.

 

“Not going to ask what happened, Seeker?” Varric drawled. Under the mint of his breath was the hint of old beer.

 

“I know what happened, Varric.” Sorting through the kit’s contents, Cassandra shot Varric a dark look. “You lost a bar fight.”

 

“Not necessarily true. I could’ve won a bar fight.”

 

“No one wins a bar fight, Varric.” Cassandra said, “Stay there.”

Standing, Cassandra paced into the kitchen, washed her shaking hands in the sink, and dried them on a clean towel before filling a bowl with warm water and arming herself with paper towels. Rejoining Varric in the living room, Cassandra sat down next to him and set the bowl in his hands.

 

“Aveline already-” Varric stopped talking at the dark look Cassandra sent him. “Never picked you for the Florence Nightingale type, Seeker.”

 

“Never thought you were the type to start bar fights, Varric.” Cassandra said sharply.

 

Any further smart remarks Varric might have made were stopped short when Cassandra pressed a warm, wet paper towel against his split lip. It stung like hell, but Cassandra’s fingers were soft and warm against his jaw.

 

Cassandra tilted Varric’s face towards the light, examining the cut across his lip. “It should be fine. Try not to smile. As for the rest…”

 

Light caught against the red gold stubble on Varric’s cheek, while his stubble prickled her fingers, Varric’s skin was warm. Whoever he’d been fighting with had hit hard, Cassandra thought, angrily.

 

Leaning in closer, Cassandra scrubbed dried blood from behind Varric’s ear.

 

“Did you take a hit to the head?”

 

“Seeker, look at me. I took a few hits to the head,” Varric laughed grimly.

 

Face screwed up into an angry frown, Cassandra slid her fingers into Varric’s hair searching for any injuries.

 

Varric let out a sharp hiss as Cassandra’s fingers found a scab.

 

“There does not seem to be anything beyond a lump and a scab, Varric,” Cassandra said softly, smoothing Varric’s hair back down. It was soft under her fingers, silky. Sitting so close to one another, Cassandra noticed that his eyelashes were ginger too, and the beginnings of crows feet sketched in around his eyes. His left eye was swollen almost shut, the bruise already turning an ugly purple green.

 

With more gentleness than she felt, Cassandra rinsed the small cuts on Varric’s face, dried them, and spread a thin layer of antibiotic cream on them.

 

“That’s everything,” Cassandra said lowly, examining Varric’s face to make sure she’d not missed anything. Varric’s leg was pressed against hers, and her hand still rested on his shoulder. Which had seemed impersonal when she’d been treating him, but now…

 

Varric offered her a small half smile, and Cassandra’s heart fluttered ever so slightly.

 

“There’s ice in the freezer for your eye.” Cassandra said roughly, repacking the first aid kit. “I’m going back to bed.”

 

Varric’s guts churned in a way that had nothing to do with overindulging in alcohol. “Working tonight, Seeker?” he asked.

 

Cassandra looked tired, her eyes half open. Standing, she grunted assent, and made her way to the hallway, staggering slightly.

 

The door to her bedroom slammed shut, the noise echoing through the empty apartment and sending a shock of pain through Varric’s aching head.

 

“Fuck,” Varric said into the silence, grimacing.

 

___________________________

 

Cassandra splashed water on her face in the station’s bathroom, and frowned at herself. Shadows under her eyes, sallow looking skin, unimproved by the bathroom’s yellow lighting. At least her shift was almost over. Making a pit stop by the Youth Bureau’s somewhat illegal coffeemaker, Cassandra promised to bring them doughnuts the next day in return.

 

The Youth Bureau’s jet fuel left a sour taste in Cassandra’s mouth, but it livened her up enough that she finished her work on time. The second Cassandra’s shift was done, she dragged herself up from her desk, and went through her end of shift routine on autopilot.

 

Thankfully the drive home was easy, the late hour meant few drivers were on the road. Something for which Cassandra was profoundly grateful.

 

Leaning against the cold metal of the elevator, Cassandra watched the floor numbers tick upwards, almost hypnotized by the changing numbers. When the door pinged, Cassandra stared blankly for a moment before realizing she was at her floor.

 

“Shit,” Cassandra muttered, adjusting the strap of her bag and thinking longingly of a warm shower and her bed. Maybe a cup of tea, and a sandwich if she could stay awake long enough.

 

Pausing in door, Cassandra stared at the dark, empty livingroom. Not even the kitchen light was on. Varric was asleep, then. Probably still sleeping off the excitement and excess of the night before, Cassandra thought wryly.

 

Heaving a sigh, Cassandra padded down the hallway towards her bedroom. A strip of light glowed beneath Varric’s door. Hesitating in front of it, Cassandra found herself debating whether to knock. To see if he’d recovered from his fight, she told herself.

  
Before she could talk herself out of it, Cassandra knocked on Varric’s door.

 

“He’s probably asleep, or listening to music, or something,” Cassandra muttered, about to turn away.

 

“Seeker?” Varric’s door opened, and Cassandra forgot what she’d been about to ask.

 

There was quite a bit of broad, well muscled, hairy chest on display.

 

“You are well, Varric? I hope I didn’t wake you,” Cassandra said, pulling her gaze away from her roommate’s chest.

 

“Nah, I was up writing. Do a lot of my best work at night,” Varric shrugged, closing the robe he was wearing over a pair of pyjama pants.

 

“And yeah, I’m fine more or less,” Varric said, waving at his black eye, “Thanks again, Seeker.”

 

“It was nothing,” Cassandra said, sleepily, “Try not to get in any more fights when I’m working.”

 

“I promise to only get my ass kicked on your days off, Seeker,” Varric said with a grin.

 

“Good,” Cassandra murmured, “I’ll… I’m going to bed. Good night, Varric.”

  
Offering Varric a sleepy smile, Cassandra turned and unlocked her own door, unaware of her roommate’s soft expression as he watched her stagger into her bedroom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a longer chapter for you guys since I hadn't updated in a while. Thank you as always for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward truths begin to dawn on Varric and Cassandra. Meanwhile, everyone else thinks they're idiots.

Cassandra’s eyes glowed with warmth, even exhausted. They’d been haunting him for days now, along with the soft smile that had lit up her face.

He was in trouble. Big time.

“You got seven shades of shit beat out of you,” Hawke said baldly. “Not to mention you look like shit.”

“You have no sympathy for my feelings,” Varric sighed.

“You probably feel like shit, too,” Hawke said ruthlessly, studying the various cuts and bruises that decorated Varric.

“There’s a reason why we’re friends, but it escapes me at the moment,” Varric remarked, sipping a beer.

“You like me for my gentle spirit and winsome ways,” Hawke deadpanned. “And all the free beer.”

“Definitely the beer,” Varric agreed, picking at the bottle’s label.

Hawke’s apartment had been a safe haven for so long, coming there was second nature now. There was something about it that just oozed comfort, a feeling of home. Probably that was the booze talking, Varric figured. Still, it was nice to be surrounded by the familiar. All the little odds and ends that made up a real home.

“Remind me again why you decided to bash your face against a wall?” Hawke asked.

“I didn’t bash it against a wall. Two big ass bikers decided my face would make good wall paper,” Varric said, shrugging as a strip of paper peeled free from his beer bottle.

“And you were just what, in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“Hawke! I’m hurt that you would even insinuate I was in any way responsible for this!” Varric exclaimed.

“Yes, can’t imagine you deliberately pissing off anyone. Soul of diplomacy, you are,” Hawke said, settling another two beers on the table.

They resumed drinking, the apartment quiet for once. A little strange to find the place empty but for Hawke, Varric thought. Still, it’d been too long since it had been just them.

“Aveline says your scary roommate is scary pretty,” Hawke said. “Said she’s got a glare that could freeze a volcano.”

“Tell me you’re not intrigued. She’d rip you to shreds, Hawke,” Varric said, feeling his shoulders tense up a little at the mention of Cassandra.

He’d managed to avoid thinking of her for at least- darting a quick look at the clock, Varric did a little math- at least 15 minutes, 27 seconds. A new record.

Pathetic.

“Though she is  fond of my books, so you might have a chance,” Varric said drolly, “Tell her I based the lead character from The Tale of the Champion off you. Just look out, you might have to role play some of it.”

Hawke looked at Varric levelly. “Trying to chase me off, Varric?.”

Fuck.

“Never, you know I support all your terrible decisions. They’re hilarious,” Varric shrugged.

“That’s pretty well exactly what you did,” Hawke said, still staring at Varric with a strange look on his face. “Right after I said she was scarily pretty, in fact.”

Varric began making inroads on the next beer label. Little paper strips were scattered around his end of the table.

Silence overtook them, Hawke watched as several new paper strips joined the others. After a couple of minutes, he lifted his beer and offered Varric a small salute.

“Sucks to be you, my friend.”

“That it does, Hawke. That it does,” Varric replied, clinking his beer bottle on Hawke’s.

 ****  


***

 ****  


“I don’t understand it. So you love Varric’s books. You’re his roommate. And you’re basically friends, yeah?” Trevelyan asked.

“I suppose so, yes.” Cassandra said slowly, not liking where this conversation was leading.

“You suppose? You’re killing me, here,” Trevelyan lolled back on the couch, exasperation colouring their voice. “Cassandra assorted middle names Pentaghast. Do you like Varric?”

With no answer from Cassandra, Trevelyan propped themselves up on one elbow to give her a stern look.

“Varric Tethras. Your roommate. Your favourite romance novelist. That guy? He with the most majestic and profligate chest hair?”

“Profligate? I don’t think that word means what you think it means,” Cassandra said finally, curled into the far corner of the couch.  

“Cassandra. He has you quoting The Princess Bride. For the love of all that’s holy talk to him!” Trevelyan exclaimed.

While Cassandra pretended to watch whatever the hell they’d thrown on Netflix (some sort of medical drama?), Trevelyan tried to marshall their arguments. That was the problem with other people’s lives. Their problems seemed easy to solve- talk to your roommate. Tell him you like his books. Ask for an autograph, or whatever. Easy. Hell, Varric owed her one for patching him up. That was all there was to it.

Of course, it didn’t explain why Cassandra, one of the toughest people around, was dithering about telling Varric she loved his books.

“Is it that you don’t like him, Cass?”

“What? No he is- well. He’s fine,” Cassandra said, blushing ever so slightly.

“You like him. He likes you. You like his books, what in god’s name is the problem?” Trevelyan demanded.

Cassandra knitted her fingers together, fixed Trevalayn with a stern look.

“I don’t want him to know I read his books. It’s embarrassing,” Cassandra said.

The frown on her face was formidable, her shoulders stiff. All signs Trevelyan knew well. Cassandra had her walls up and god have mercy on anyone trying to breach them. The woman was tougher than nails.

“It’s embarrassing. Cassandra, you’ve never let other people’s opinions get in the way. The hell do you care if Varric knows?”

“I don’t. I don’t at all. But I don’t care to be-” Whatever Cassandra had been about to say, she’d clearly rethought it, “Can we speak of other things?”

“Cass,” Trevelyan started, then sighed.

“So, you working the big summit?” they asked.

Cassandra’s posture changed immediately, her face thunderous as she tore into the idiotic things the service was being made to do. Trevelyan tuned her out, and instead tried to make sense of what had just happened.

 ****  


***

“Pling!”

Varric snatched up his phone, and checked the screen.

**Facebook**

Donnic Hendyr’s birthday is today!

“Oh, for fuckssake!” Varric said.

Slamming his phone face down on the couch, Varric brought his attention back to the TV screen, where two brothers and an attractive angel were getting the shit kicked out of them.

Flipping the phone back over, he checked the time, and cursed.

This was the real problem with having a cop roommate, Varric thought sourly. The worry.

Only natural when your roommate and your friends were at a protest. On opposite sides.

Fuck.

Dozens of scenarios had run through his imagination all week, every one of them worse than before. All of them irrational, Varric reminded himself. The protest was supposed to be huge, the chances of everyone meeting were remote.

Didn’t mean something couldn’t happen to them singly.

Varric’s phone cheerfully pinged again, and he grabbed it with embarrassing eagerness.

 

**Twitter**   4:30

@24HavenNews Protesters clash with police @City Hall as peace summit

                                                                          enters third day #HavenPoli #T16 #T16Summit

Fuck, fuck.

Varric licked dry lips, tried to focus on the TV, where the elder brother and the angel were standing too close to eachother.

It had probably been a bad idea, following three separate news Twitter accounts.

What the hell did ‘clash’ mean? It could be anything.

Goddamn vague clickbait headlines.

  
Though, if there’d been injuries, the news would’ve been on it like the vultures they were.

That was something, at least.

On screen, the older brother and the angel were gazing intently at one another.

“Hell,” Varric muttered, picking his phone up again.

 

 **Hawke, Daisy, Anders, Broody** 4:35

                                                                                                  Stickin’ it to the Man?

 

 **Aveline, Seeker, Donnic** 4:37

                                                                                                  Kickin’ ass and taking names?

Ten minutes later, Varric’s phone pinged again.

**Hawke**    4:46

                                                                                                 Keeping an eye on the kids, Ma.

Attached was a photo of Daisy wearing a flower crown, standing between Anders and Fenris. Both of whom also had flower crowns.

Glaring at his phone, Varric composed a suitably sarcastic response, and saved the photo.

Twenty minutes after that, a text from Aveline popped up.

**Aveline** 5:08

                                                                                                   Fine, Varric. Haven’t arrested any of our

                                                                                                   friends. Stop fussing.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Varric went back to his show. Nothing yet from Seeker, but that wasn’t new. The woman was the worst texter in all of Thedas. The last five texts he’d had from her were all monosyllabic, and if she was working? It was a miracle to have her response in less than an hour.

On screen, the monster of the week threw both brothers against a wall, and had stopped to gloat, the fool.

Meanwhile, Varric’s phone stayed stubbornly silent.

The episode wrapped up with the angel acting as a rather obvious deus ex machina, and invading the older brother’s personal space again. Both of them looked pleased about it.

“Pling!”

Ignoring the way his heart leapt into his throat, Varric picked up his phone.

An email from his editor about the most recent draft of Hard in Hightown. Something he should probably read, like a responsible author.

“Pling!”

 

 **Twitter** 6:26

                                                                                                     @24HavenNews 7 injured, 12 arrested as 

                                                                                                     protestors storm barriers #T16Summit. #HavenPoli #T16

Varric’s stomach roiled unpleasantly.

Heaving himself up from the couch, Varric walked over to his laptop and called up the message from his editor. He read it once, twice, and midway through the third time, gave it up as a bad job. Instead he opened the attached file and focused all his attention on the suggested edits. Those were a decent distraction, since he was guaranteed to disagree with at least three of them.

After twenty minutes, Varric had a list of edits he absolutely loathed, thrown in with a couple he could stand, and began composing a reply. Hopefully his editor would let him sneak by a few things.

“Pling!”

Varric jolted upright in his chair, and fished his phone out from the stack of paper it had sprouted.

**Seeker** 7:03

                                                                                                      Fine thanks. Coming home.

Varric exhaled heavily. Cassandra was fine.

Of course she was fine.

She was coming home.

Stupid to enjoy the word, the apartment had been her home long before he’d moved in. She wasn’t coming home to him.

***

_Home._

The only thing keeping Cassandra upright was sheer stubbornness, and the thought of home. Maybe a warm shower. Or a bath.

God, a bath sounded good.

Dinner, and maybe a movie, too. Something low-key.

Cassandra’s mind immediately leapt to the ideal- a ridiculous chick flick on TV, take out from that Antivan restaurant, and Varric-

_Varric?_

Cassandra stared at her reflection in the elevator’s mirrored wall.

She’d flinched away from the thought of a quiet evening shared with Varric, which was absurd. They’d spent many evenings that way, but they’d been mere chance.

Not purposeful.

Somehow they’d just begun a habit of watching movies and eating take out every Friday. Or whatever day fell before her days off.

For the past three months.

It signified _nothing_. Couldn’t.

Varric was the sort of person who needed company, that was all.

Not that he needed to resort to hers. He had friends.

Despite that, he’d never yet missed on of their movie nights.

She hadn’t missed one, either.

Cassandra’s reflection stared back at her, looking a little worse for wear. Three days of protesters throwing abuse, and the occasional brick, and she’d never flinched. Hadn’t once felt nervous.

Why then did she feel nervous, stepping out onto their floor? Each step she took felt wooden, wrong somehow. Even the doorknob felt awkward in her hand. Had it always been so large?

The door swung open, and there was Varric with his laptop and several take out menus scattered across the table, as she’d expected.

“Seeker!” Varric exclaimed, his gaze roaming across her face, sweeping down her body. “Survived, I see.”

“Barely,” Cassandra replied, hanging up her jacket to avoid looking at him, and discovering it didn’t matter.

Looking at him or not, she had an innate sense of where Varric was, his image burned into her minds’ eye.

“I’m going to shower,” Cassandra announced, and immediately feeling stupid for it.

Annoyed at herself, she strode down the corridor and slammed the bathroom door.

“Shit,” Cassandra tilted her head back against the door. “Shit!”

***

Weird. That had been weird. Varric leaned back in his chair, and stared into thin air.

Cassandra had come in, looking exhausted, and he’d felt relief. Overpowering, and stupid as hell. It must’ve shown on his face, since she’d taken one look at him and run off to the shower.

Made sense.

Varric looked back at his computer screen, and moodily hit a few buttons.

  
The water started running. Varric’s mind wandered to Cassandra in the shower, and immediately he wrenched it back to less dangerous territory.

In his memory, Cassandra smiled at him, sleepy and content. Wrapped in the blanket Daisy had made him, her long legs curled beneath her. One hand propping up her cheek as the credits rolled on whatever movie they’d been watching.

Cassandra biting her lip sorting through the take out menus, even though they both knew she’d pick the Antivan place.

Cassandra bundled up in her robe, making them tea at three in the morning. Laughing as he made a joke.

Her eyes lit up when she laughed. They lost the tiredness, the hardness, and nearly glowed.

That was his favourite. That look of unguarded glee.

Especially when he caused it. When she smiled at him, and he felt-

_Oh_.

Varric’s computer beeped, letting him know he’d typed an entire page worth of the letter V. An unwelcome interruption, but one that brought him back to reality. A reality where his roommate only tolerated him, where she’d never given him any hint she felt anything for him other than friendship.

The legs of his chair scraped against the floor as Varric pushed himself away from the table and picked up the takeout menus, sorting through them until he found the right one. The Antivan place’s menu was stained and wrinkled. Hesitating for only a moment, Varric took his phone out, and dialed.

He wasn’t the only one who knew their order by heart, turned out so did every employee at the restaurant. Food secured, Varric set about preparing the living room. Couch cushions straightened out, Daisy’s blanket closer to his side of the couch, Netflix cued up.

Sprawling loosely on the couch, Varric started scrolling through their recommended movies as the shower stopped.

The bathroom door opened, and Cassandra’s door clicked shut.

Varric’s heartbeat sped up, anticipation tingling in his veins.

Cassandra turned the corner, wearing a slouchy sweatshirt and leggings. She looked fantastic. More than fantastic. Perfect. She crossed the living room to sit on the couch, unaware of the way Varric’s eyes followed her, unaware of how he drank up the slightest detail.

She curled up on the far end of the couch, and the distance between them felt infinite.

“Any ideas on what to watch, Seeker?” Varric asked. His voice didn’t waver, and he barely looked her way.

There was no sign that he was in any way affected by her presence. Not that he was. That would be absurd.

Cassandra stared at the screen, and Varric stared at her.

Pulling his gaze away from her before he was caught, Varric scrolled through their movie options, pausing so Cassandra could read all the descriptions.

A soft ache began to pulse in Varric’s chest. It was as though having realized he felt something for Cassandra, he couldn’t stop looking at her, couldn’t feign ignorance.

Daring to look at her, his heart thumped awkwardly, before he looked back at the screen.

She’d been looking at him, too.

 ****  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with this fic everyone, sorry for the long wait between updates!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric struggles with writer's block, and nascent feelings for his roommate. Cassandra meets some friendly faces, things go a little awry.

The blinking cursor was taunting him, Varric decided. Mocking him for staring at a blank screen for thirty minutes. No self-respecting author could perform with that kind of censure.

 

Giving up on his word document, Varric turned on an Internet radio station, and pushed his laptop out of arm’s reach. Setting a timer on his phone to go off in one hour, Varric tossed his phone onto a chair and dragged his notebook over. Flipping past all the false starts and hastily scrawled and never used plot diagrams to a new page; he uncapped his pen, poised to write.

 

The first sentence came easily, as did the second. By the third sentence, Varric had slashed dark black lines through the whole mess. Starting again one line down, he reused the first sentence from the previous attempt, mixed with the best part of the second sentence. The sentence after that spooled out from his pen nib with ease.

 

Half an hour later, the entire page was lying crumpled at his feet.

 

Tea. That would fix things. Ignoring the two mostly full mugs of tea already on the table, Varric paused the timer and strolled into the kitchen.

 

While the kettle was boiling, Varric let his mind wander away from Hard in Hightown. Sure, he was proud of it- his best selling series maintained a high place on the Thedosian best seller’s list. Despite one reviewer deeming it “so well written one forgets it’s low brow”.  It was fun to write, and had the potential for limitless sequels. Unlike his other books.

 

The Tale of the Champion outsold Hard in Hightown in its first week, but even though his editor had come dangerously close to begging, there was no sequel in sight. As for Swords and Shields? Varric grimaced at the boiling kettle. The romance heavy medieval fantasy cum police procedural had flopped, big time. No one in all of Thedas wanted a sequel to that piece of shit.

 

Entirely unbidden, Varric’s thoughts drifted back to the previous night; Cassandra, a light blush staining her face when he’d caught her watching him. Or she’d caught him watching her. Either way. She’d blushed, and pressed her lips together the way she did when a smile threatened.

 

He’d nearly said something right there. Her fingers had tangled in Daisy’s blanket, and he’d felt a sharp, sudden need to hold her hand. Instead they’d sat in a silence that felt stilted, awkward.

 

It occurred to him later that Cassandra must’ve realized he was feeling something towards her, and decided to politely ignore it. After all, she was a beautiful woman. No doubt she was used to fending off love struck morons.

 

The silence didn’t break until the delivery girl buzzed.

 

That had been a good idea on his part. Cassandra had offered him a smile that was full of warmth and fondness. Particularly when he unpacked the small box of pastries.

 

If there was one thing he excelled at, Varric thought, it was breaking his own goddamn heart.

 

He’d made Cassandra happy just by ordering her dinner. As she unfolded herself from the couch to get plates and cutlery, Varric had been struck by a thought.

 

He wanted to make her happy all the time.  To do the little things, like ordering her favourite foods, making her tea, and holding her hand.

 

Kiss her.

 

Cassandra came back from the kitchen, and they’d settled in to eat and finally get her started on Paranormal. He’d spent more time watching her than the damn show.

 

The whole situation sucked, Varric thought, taking a sip of his tea on the way back to the table.

 

Giving his mug an offended glare, Varric turned around, dumped more sugar in his too strong tea, and found himself once more staring at a blank page.

 

Heaving a sigh, Varric picked up his phone and started the timer again, dismissing all the alerts from the local and national news channels. It had been a slow day so far at the protests, but then it wasn’t even noon yet.

 

That was at least one good thing about today. No need to worry about his friends.

 

******

 

It was a nice day, at least. If one had to work outside, a nice, sunny day was infinitely better than rain or, god forbid, snow. The beautiful day seemed to be affecting police and protestors alike. The violence of the previous day had only erupted in fits and spurts, which Cassandra appreciated. She and her fellow officers were not so well armoured as the riot squad, after all.

 

Movement caught her eye as she neared the barricade. A small, dark haired woman waved her hand, while her friends (all wearing flower crowns) looked awkward, uncomfortable, or outright suspicious.

 

“Cass- oh. Officer Pentaghast!” the woman beckoned her closer, “You’re Varric’s roommate?”

 

“I am. You are?” Cassandra asked, confused.

 

“Merrill! Varric’s told us all about you. Good things, of course. Not that he hasn’t said bad things- oh, damn,” Merrill stopped, clearly flustered.

 

“She is cute when she’s flustered. I’m Hawke, and you’re as scary pretty as Aveline said,” the man to Merrill’s left said with a grin. “This is Fenris.”

 

Fenris, the somewhat dour looking young man with a shock of white hair, offered a thin smile.

 

“Would you like a flower crown?” Merrill asked. The crown she wore was dotted with daisies.

 

“You’re the one who made that blanket? The one with the vines, of Varric’s,” Cassandra said, taking the crown Merrill brandished. It was vibrantly pink and violet. A soft, pleasant smell wafted upwards.

 

“I am! I’m glad he’s using it, “ Merrill smiled, then looked confused as Cassandra handed her back the flower crown.

 

“I’m afraid I can’t wear it. It’s against uniform regulations,” Cassandra said regretfully.

 

Merrill opened her mouth to say something-

 

WHUMP

 

Glass shattered as people began to scream and run. Sirens and alarms wailed, piercing and surreally loud in the sudden panic. Fire billowed out from City Hall’s shattered windows, black smoke boiled upwards in oily clouds.

 

“Get home, and stay there!” Cassandra barked, spinning on her heel. “Tell Varric-“

 

Tell Varric what? At a time like this? Cassandra chided herself. Stupid. People were already streaming past her, screaming and shoving in their desperation to be away from the burning building.

 

“I’ll be home late.”

 

With that, Cassandra began to run towards her fellow officers, and the fire fast consuming City Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things get a little more interesting from here. Thanks for reading everyone!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The explosion's aftermath proves very hard on Cassandra and Varric.

Varric stared up at the television, frozen in place as frantic reporters tried to make sense of what was going on.

  
City Hall had exploded. Mayor Justinia was presumed dead, along with many of the gathered delegates.

Enormous gouts of flame lit up the screen, and tinny screams pierced the air as the news aired footage taken by a witness.

Maker’s breath.

On screen, one of the reporters began weeping softly, announcing that a second blast had just gone off while emergency personnel were still inside.

In a daze, Varric perched on the couch, watching the crying news anchor while the twitter feed that scrolled along the bottom of the screen erupted in terror. People trying to find loved ones who’d been at the protest, or who’d been working there. Amidst the screaming, and the news anchor’s stuttering, horror-filled voice, a soft pop melody began playing. Some small part of Varric’s brain wondered if he’d lost it.

The melody repeated again, tinkling and whimsical.

Varric stared down at his phone, not quite understanding what was going on, until suddenly it clicked.

His phone.

Cold, trembling hands nearly dropped the phone twice before Varric could stab the call button and jam the phone against his ear.

“Varric! Varric we were at the protest, City Hall exploded and we met your Cassandra, Aveline’s right she’s lovely and I didn’t think she was scary really but she- “ Merrill took a breath, and continued in a voice that was too high pitched. “Sorry, babbling again and-”

Over the phone, Varric could hear the sounds of Merrill’s struggling breaths, and then Hawke’s voice, low and comforting.

“Merrill, are you okay? Is everyone alright?” Varric asked, feeling a hand squeeze his heart tight.

“Fine, we’re fine except for the whole part where City Hall exploded. Twice,” Merrill managed.

Thank god. Thank the Maker.

Varric slumped back in his chair, loose and dizzy with relief.

Over the phone, a loud crash and the faint sound of screams broke the brief silence.

Someone bellowed that City Hall had collapsed. Another horrible wail split the air, heartsick and terrified.

“MERRILL!?” Varric jerked upright, sick with fear.

“We’re okay, I don’t know what that was, but we’re okay!”

“Any sign of the others? Merrill, have you seen anyone else?” Varric asked around the lump in his throat.

“We saw Cassandra. I said that already, sorry. She ran towards City Hall when it exploded,” Merrill’s voice shook and shuddered. “I don’t know about anyone else.”

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

Varric swallowed heavily, gritting his teeth against the surge of prickling, hot tears building in his eyes.

“They’re pros, Daisy. Trained for this kind of shit. They’ll be fine,” Varric said, sounding more confident than he felt.

“Cassandra said to tell you-” Merrill’s voice broke. Through the phone Varric heard the sound of feet pounding against concrete, and harsh breaths.

Cassandra said what? What could she possibly have wanted to say to him of all people? A small, stupid part of Varric’s heart leapt with hope. But then Merrill spoke, and Varric had to laugh.

“I’ll be home late?” Varric said, almost not believing it.

“Yeah, I- Varric? We’re going home,” Merrill said, relief in her voice. Her voice had become weaker, threadier throughout the call.

“Go home, Daisy. It will be alright,” Varric told her.

The phone went dead.

God.

Maker.

Varric offered up a silent plea, feeling foolish and scared.

Please.

*****

Thick, black smoke streamed from the east side of City Hall, while fire ate away at the building which had once been beautiful.

Creaks and groans echoed weirdly throughout the building, punctuated by sharp snaps.

Cassandra gestured at the two other cops flanking her, giving them the all clear. No one had been in the last few rooms and corridors that still survived.

The radio on Cassandra’s shoulder crackled to life.

“Additional firefighters dispatched, headed your way. Get out of there, Pentaghast. Over.”

“Copy. On our way out, over.” Cassandra thumbed the call button, and grinned at the two PCs.

The second explosion caught them by surprise.

Windows burst as Cassandra and the two constables lost their footing and fell to the floor.

Cassandra picked herself up gingerly. Her left leg ached, as did her right shoulder. All the skin along the left side of her face felt like it was on fire.

Everything was silent, as though the explosion had sucked all the noise out of the world. A high pitched ringing started in her ears, and as the two PCs stumbled to their feet, they grimaced, gesturing at their deafened ears. Almost in unison, they took one look at Cassandra and winced.

PC Doyle said something, then said something that was clearly profane, having realized there was no way she’d have been heard. The PC settled for drawing a line down her cheek, and pointing.

Probing the gash along her cheek with dirty fingers, Cassandra had to bite her lip to stop from crying. The wound was deep, a ragged line from cheekbone to chin that burned and stung horrifically.

Nothing to be done for it now. They had to find a way out of the City Hall building before it fell down around their ears.

The main entry hall was now a flaming mess of broken beams and pulverized marble. Acrid smoke streamed down the hallway towards them as the fire consumed more and more.

Cassandra took one look down the hallway, then motioned for both PCs to follow her. It was obvious she wouldn’t be able to move quickly if the need arose, and one of the PCs was favouring his whole right side. They moved slowly back down the hallway towards the rooms they’d left, Cassandra kept them all alert, checking each room before they entered. Wordlessly, they passed through the mostly untouched corridors.

When the glowing red light of the fire exit shone through the gathering gloom, Cassandra sighed with relief, offering up a prayer of thanks. The door’s alarm joined the cacophony of noise from outside; screams and sirens resonated through the grounds of City Hall.

Stumbling into the light, Cassandra broke into a jog heading towards the cluster of EMTs, trailed by her two PCs.

Only then did she see all the destruction. City Hall had collapsed in on itself, only the western half remained standing, and even that was being devoured.

“Fuck.”

Tears streamed down Cassandra’s cheeks, cutting swaths in the blood and grime that coated her. An EMT swabbed at the injury to her face, keeping up a stream of chatter she didn’t pay attention to.

“Do you know what happened? Were there fatalities?” Cassandra asked, as the EMT turned to pick up small butterfly shaped bandages.

“Still trying to figure that out, but the main blast took out the conference hall where the Mayor was speaking today,” the EMT replied. “It’s completely leveled.”

Cold, paralyzing horror swept through Cassandra. All those people. The Mayor.

Gone.

The EMT checked her over once more, and draped a blanket across Cassandra’s shoulders “for the shock.” Something Cassandra would’ve argued about, except that she couldn’t ignore the way her fingers trembled, and her heart jack-hammered in her chest. The EMT returned, trailed by another police officer.

“Officer Pentaghast? Sorry ma’am but I need to talk to you before you can be released. Do you want Baum here to call anyone to come pick you up?”

“Detective Pentaghast,” Cassandra corrected. “I- yes. Would it be possible for him to make the call while I give you my statement?”

“Of course. Thank you ma’am.”

  
As the EMT dialed, Cassandra began recounting her impression of the explosion, wanting more than anything else to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapter summaries are becoming increasingly silly. Thank you all so much for continuing to read this absurdity! :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric learns some new things, Cassandra gets some well deserved rest.

A thicket of emergency response vehicles and reporters surrounded the smouldering building; it put Varric in mind of the thorns and vines that surrounded Sleeping Beauty’s castle. And somewhere in the depths of all that was Cassandra.

Varric’s hands shook. They’d been shaking since the news report, since Daisy had called. The call to come and pick up Cassandra had surprised him; of all people he’d expected she’d have asked for Trevelyan. Not that he wasn’t glad she’d asked for him, even if it was only because they lived together. He needed to see her. At that moment he’d have sold his soul for one glimpse of her face.

Drawing nearer to the barricade that had been erected around the perimeter, Varric became taut with anxiety. Cassandra was nowhere in sight.

“Varric?”

He almost didn’t recognize her voice. It sounded too tired, too slurred to be Cassandra. But there she was, sitting on the rear bumper of an ambulance draped in a blanket. Bandages covered half her face, smoke stained her clothes and skin. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, alive and whole and-

  
This was no time to get weepy, Varric told himself.

“Seeker, what the hell happened to you?”

He was at her side in an instant, one hand moving of its own accord to cup the unbandaged side of her jaw.

There was nothing wrong, other than a nick beneath her right eye, and whatever lay beneath the bandages.

Maker, she was in one piece.

“You need to take her to the emergency room to have the cut on her face stitched,” an EMT interrupted. “It’s not a life threatening injury, and right now all the ambulances available are here.”

“What happened?” Varric asked again. When the EMT had appeared beside them, he’d dropped his hand from Cassandra’s face.

“Broken glass when the windows broke,” the EMT said succinctly. “Take her to Our Lady Redeemer. The emerg there is quick.”

“Thanks,” Varric said.

The EMT shrugged. His radio crackled, and in one fluid move he had grabbed a bag and was darting off.

Taking a deep breath, Varric almost choked. The air was still full of smoke, and smelled of something foul. The entire atmosphere around the ruined building was noxious, and Varric very suddenly wanted to be far away from the smell of fire.

“C’mon Seeker. We’ll get you fixed up.”

Cassandra hadn’t said a word since calling out his name. She stood, swayed on her feet and steadied herself. Shucking the blanket, she folded it and placed it on the ambulance’s bumper. Every movement seemed robotic.

The drive to the hospital is somehow worse than the drive to City Hall. Varric’s fairly sure his clenched fingers left indents in the steering wheel. He doesn’t remember the route he took in order to pick up Cassandra. He somehow went from their apartment, to the car, to City Hall with only one word pounding away in his thoughts:

Cassandra.

This time, he’s aware of every turn or sudden stop; worried about jarring Cassandra’s injuries. But since the EMT had left her in his care, she’d barely spoken. Just sat there in the passenger’s seat, strong and still and utterly remote. She’d thanked him for coming, and they’d walked to the car in silence.

Cassandra didn't say a word to him. Not when they’d entered the emergency room, nor when a doctor had called her name and asked if she wanted Varric’s company while they stitched her face. Not a damn word.

In the waiting room, Varric flipped through the outdated magazines, every partial newspaper (why was the Sports section always missing?), and all the available pamphlets. He’d learned some interesting facts, and was wondering if maybe he did have Lyme disease after all, when the doors to the examination rooms swung open to release Cassandra.

The bandages swathing her face had been replaced, looking much cleaner. The left side of her face was a little slack. Clutched in her fingers was a sheaf of paper- prescriptions and care info, Varric assumed.

“Come on, Seeker. They put everything back the way it was?” Varric asked.

They crossed the parking lot in silence.

Varric thumbed through the printed out care-sheets. Nothing unexpected- keep the wound clean, uncovered to let it breathe (the bandage was mostly to keep people from gawking) and Cassandra had been prescribed light antibiotics just in case. She’d been given a dose at the hospital, but she needed to take at least one more in 8 hours. They also noted that chewing would be difficult until the wound began to heal, recommending soft foods, and liquids.

All doable. There was a drugstore next door to their building, which also stocked food. Varric turned to suggest a quick stop, and instead smiled. Cassandra had slid down in the passenger’s seat, her chin resting on her chest. It was almost sweet. Would’ve been cute if she didn’t look dead tired, her face nearly overwhelmed by the bandage.

Varric drove home very carefully. After a quick pit stop at the drugstore, he had to face facts. Cassandra needed to be woken up. She had to eat, and go to bed. First though, he had to get her up to the apartment.

“Cassandra? C’mon Seeker. Rise and shine,” Varric murmured.

She groaned, mumbled something, and turned her face away.

Varric sighed. Hopping out of the car, he walked round to the passenger’s side. Easing the door open, Varric unclipped Cassandra’s seatbelt and stared, a frown puckering his brow. Cassandra was out cold. No amount of cajoling could elicit anything more than a grunt.

He’d have to carry her, Varric realized with a sinking feeling.

Sliding his arm around Cassandra’s back, Varric hauled her forward. Careful not to hit her head, he eased her out of the car and into his arms. Cassandra snuffled. Looping her arm around Varric’s neck, her face nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

Hell.

Varric gauged the distance between the care and the elevator, and heaved a put-upon sigh. Adjusting his grip on Cassandra’s slack body, he began to make slow progress across the parking lot.

It wasn’t a hardship, Varric thought. He’d never been the type to sweep a woman off her feet. It was different than how he’d written it- keeping a solid grip on a limp person was actually a bit awkward. But Cassandra’s arms wrapped around his neck, her slow breaths whispered against his throat, and it was very worth it.

Simply holding her, no matter how chaste the situation, satisfied something inside him.

Relief, probably.

He’d been so damn afraid for her, after all. Physical contact just proved to his brain that she was safe and sound. That was all.

There was a slippery moment when they arrived at the elevator doors and Varric had to hit the button with his elbow. Selecting their floor was another problem. With Cassandra in his arms, the button for their floor was just out of reach.

In the middle of trying to work out how to press the button, the elevator jerked to life, and Varric nearly lost his grip on her. For her part, Cassandra sighed and buried her face against Varric’s shoulder. He had the sneaking suspicion she’d begun drooling.

She’d be horrified if she ever found out. For some reason though, the thought of Cassandra drooling on his shirt suffused Varric’s chest with a warm glow.

Lucky for them, the flock of giggling teens who piled into their elevator on the next floor were only too willing to press the right floor button. Despite a lot of wide eyed whispering and pointing.

Maker. Cassandra was still in full uniform.

The teens were still staring, whispering and jostling one another. The elevator doors slid open, and the kids left with obvious reluctance. A few of them turned to stare, dragging their feet until the doors shut again. Whatever story they were going to concoct in order to explain a man carrying a fully uniformed and clearly unconscious cop was going to be brilliant. Varric marked the floor they’d disembarked on, and resolved to keep an ear out for any good gossip.

Varric looked down at Cassandra, feeling very dumb. She was still in uniform, and (he checked her belt) definitely armed.

Sodding hell.

He should’ve asked about that, but Cassandra had fallen asleep and he’d been too damn relieved to even think about anything other than bringing her home as soon as possible. Maker only knew what her boss would think. Was it a crime for her to have come home with everything from a bulletproof vest to her gun?

Aveline would know. He could call Aveline, and have her work it out.

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open on their floor. Their door in sight, Varric flexed his aching arms, trying to relieve some of the discomfort he felt.

Aside from a heart-stopping moment when his numb fingers fumbled the keys, their arrival home was without incident. Varric maneuvered his way across the threshold, feeling silly about it.

Of course he’d be reminded of a groom carrying his bride over the doorstep of their new home. Media was oversaturated with the image. Hell, he’d written a similar scene in one of his books. It had nothing to do with him and Cassandra.

Lumbering down the hallway, Varric cursed a blue streak. Cassandra locked her bedroom door. Making a spur of the moment decision, Varric turned and shouldered his door open. Lucky for both of them he’d left it open in his rush to get to her.

Varric eased Cassandra onto his bed with great care. She frowned, and sighed, before her brow smoothed and she slipped back into deep sleep. Her spiky black hair fell into her face, dark slashes of ink across a pale page.

  
Something in Varric’s chest constricted.

His fingers burned with the urge to reach out and touch her hair, an urge Varric squashed ruthlessly. Instead, he turned his attention to the uniform she still wore.

Despite knowing it was necessary, and that Cassandra would be more comfortable for it, Varric felt like a pervert. Her belt undid easily enough. The sheer weight of it was surprising, even though he’d been prepared for it to be heavy (it did have a gun on it, after all). Next came the bulletproof vest, which attached with some combination of velcro, buckles, and witchcraft. It too was heavy, and felt scratchy. Once he was sure Cassandra wore a t-shirt under her uniform shirt, he stripped that off too; it reeked of smoke, and something had torn up her right sleeve.

Next came the boots, which didn’t want to go at all.

Of course even Cassandra’s boots would be stubborn. One boot popped off after a prolonged struggle. Expecting the same resistance from the other boot, Varric gave it an almighty pull, and wound up sprawled across the floor, with a boot print on his chest.

Finally though, Cassandra was as comfortable as he could make her. Varric checked her pulse, and her breathing. Both were normal, or as close to normal as he could guess. On his way downstairs, he leaned against the elevator’s gleaming interior, and dialed Aveline’s number.

“Hey Red. Say I’d absconded with a police officer in full gear. That’s not a crime, right? Yeah, gun too…” Varric smiled at himself in the mirror, as Aveline tore a strip off his hide.

“Does she have a gun safe? In her room? Red, why the hell would I know whether or not she had a-”

“You’re right, dumb question. Yes, I do write crime fiction. No I don’t know how I’m succeeding at that.”

The elevator let him out in the parking garage. Varric crossed the lot while Aveline bemoaned her choice of friends. He crossed back again, and was in the elevator by the time she’d finished telling him how Merrill and the others were doing. Well, apparently, but shellshocked. They’d retreated into Hawke’s apartment for movies, junk food, and beer. No one expected to see them for the next few days, though Aveline had promised to show up and mother them. That assuaged some of the guilt Varric felt for not dashing to their side. But they had eachother, and so far as he could tell, Cassandra had him and Trevelyan.

As the elevator ascended, Varric started working on what to say when Cassandra wanted to know why she was waking up in his bed.

Wit failed him, as the floor numbers ticked upwards.

Instead, Varric found himself wondering if she read his books. Not The Tale of the Champion, or Hard in Hightown, but Swords and Shields. Not his best effort, but the sort of thing she might like. Love, adventure, misadventures and misunderstandings, and a pile of tropes. His publisher had sent him a few copies of the first three novels, and they were still in a box somewhere in his room, along with the unfinished draft of book 4.

 **  
**Maybe he could unearth a copy for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever and I am so sorry! Also sorry Cassandra spends the entirety of it either shell-shocked or asleep...next chapter involves her being awake, I promise. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for supporting me and reading my fics! You all rock.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra wakes up somewhere strange, swirly straws lead to revelations.

Language hasn’t found a word that adequately describes how goddamn sore she is, Cassandra discovers. Her head ached, her face throbbed, and somehow she pulled every muscle in her body. She may no longer be a woman but a large bruise. Her sense of humour is still present, which would be fine but it made her head hurt more. Gritting her teeth, Cassandra waited patiently for the riot of her body to quiet down, tried to focus on something other than pain. Something like how she was very much not in her own room. The bed she’s lying on faces the wrong direction, for one. The smell is different. She’s not on the couch, which means that she’s in-

 

Varric’s bed.

 

Cassandra’s whole body snaps into a rigid line. No part of her enjoys that. Least of all her head, which sings with agony.

 

She’s in Varric’s bed because-

 

Her mind can’t quite fill in the blanks. She remembered the summit, the explosion, giving her statement to an officer, and that’s about when things stop being clear. There’s the vague memory of waiting for someone, then a hospital and nothing. Nothing between the hospital and Varric’s bed. Not that she's worried. It's just strange, and something to think about other than the pain along her jaw and the distracting smell of Varric. The bed linens smell like him. Not in a bad way- it's comforting, she discovers.

 

The door creaks open. It's probably not worth the spasm of pain down her face and neck, but Cassandra turns her head anyways.

 

Varric sidled in carrying a tray. A book tucked under his arm, and an awkward smile on his face.

Cassandra waited for a sarcastic comment that never came. Instead, Varric set the tray down on the night table, along with the book. The book’s spine looks familiar, and when she recognizes it as Swords and Shields, Cassandra feels her face flush.

 

“Did you… my room?” she says.

 

What she wants to know is whether that’s her book, and if Varric got into her room, why is she still in his bed. But her throat’s dry and sore, her face feels bruised and stiff, so the words don’t come out right.

 

“Nah, you were dead to the world, and the door was locked. Seemed easier to just put you in here til you woke up,” Varric tells her.

 

That explains that. Reaching a hand up, Cassandra feels the bandage that stretches along her left cheek.

 

“Glass from the explosion,” Varric supplies. “You got sewn up at the hospital.”

 

He looks nervous, which is a weird expression to see on him. Cassandra raises her eyebrows in question, since speaking seems to be a bad idea.

 

“It’s going to scar,” Varric tells her. “The cut was deep.”

 

Ah. Cassandra touches the bandage again, fingers mapping the length of it. It’s going to be one hell of a scar.

 

Lacking anything else to say, Cassandra pulled herself upright. Her head swims, and for a terrifying moment the world goes grey and wavy.

 

“Here, Seeker. S’okay,” Varric’s strong arms ease around her.

 

With the pillow adjusted and her head a little clearer, Cassandra feels more herself. Varric drags his desk chair over, and settles down into it.

 

“Feel like eating? You’re stuck with an all liquid diet,” he says, “But you get to live out every kid’s dream.”

 

When she gives him a curious look, Varric produces an absurdly lime green swirly straw and plunks it into the tall glass of water he’d brought in.

 

It’s such a Varric thing to do.

 

Cassandra’s eyes well up with tears.

 

“Ah hell. C’mon it’s okay. You don’t like the swirly straw? No swirly straw. It dies at dawn,” Varric says.

 

Tears spill down her cheeks.

 

“Swirly straw amnesty?” Varric suggests.

 

“You’re an idiot,” she tells him.

Her voice is garbled from the bruising on her face and the tears, which don’t want to stop. It has been such a long day. A long week, really. But today she’s been through a major- Maker she doesn’t know what to call it- she’d been caught in an explosion, and all her thoughts had been about coming home, seeing Varric again. Now that she’s finally home again, Cassandra’s annoyed to find she can’t do anything but cry.

 

The warm smell of Varric comforts her. His arms gather her close, and Cassandra sobs into his chest until she gets the hiccups. It’s the most she’s ever cried since she was a little girl, but there’s just too much she needs to get out. Varric’s hands smooth down her back, until her breathing evens out. His shirt’s a mess. She’s a mess. Everything’s a mess but she’s home and that’s all that matters.

 

Cassandra stops crying, but Varric still cradles her close, nose buried in her hair. His heartbeat thumps heavily in his chest, against her ear. It should feel strange. This is the most they’ve ever touched. Instead, Cassandra feels at peace.

 

“You called me,” he says.

 

It’s a strange thing to say. Cassandra can’t quite piece together what he means, until it all suddenly clicks. The explosion. The EMT. She’d given him Varric’s number because-

 

Because she’d needed Varric. It had to be him.

 

“I did,” Cassandra replies.

 

“Why me, why not Trev or Josie or-” Varric cuts himself off. Something rasps in his voice when he starts again. “Why me?”

 

Cassandra’s heart aches more than all her injuries.

 

In the burning wreckage of City Hall, it had been easy to think I have to get home to Varric I need him I need Varric. Now, reality was reinserting itself. She needed him, wanted him.

 

Loved him.

 

In the warmth of Varric’s embrace, Cassandra feels cold. Her heart sags. He cannot be holding her when she tells him why. The thought of his retreating, his awkward apologies when he rejects her, chills her to the bone.

 

Pushing out of Varric’s grasp, Cassandra readjusts herself. Takes a sip of water, then another, then hungrily drains half the glass in one shot.

 

She cannot postpone the inevitable- Varric should know, should decide for himself whether he wants to stay.

 

“It needed to be you,” she says to the comforter.

 

“That’s not cryptic at all,” Varric says.

 

Pressing her lips together, Cassandra looks up at Varric instead of at the blanket.

 

“I needed you,” she says. “I needed you. All I could think was that I had to get home, I had to come back here. To you.”

 

Her mouth quirks up at the corners, a rueful smile that only barely hurts her face.

 

Varric looks shocked. As well he should, she supposes. What does one do when their roommate confesses their love?

 

Laugh, apparently.

 

Cassandra’s temper flares. This has been the longest, most terrible day of her adult life and she will not prolong it by sitting here listening to Varric laugh at her.

 

“No, no Seeker- Cassandra stop, stop. I’m not-”

 

She pushes past him, but his hands catch at hers and bring them up to his lips.

 

Varric presses soft kisses to her bruised knuckles.

  
“Did you mean it?” he asks.

 

Cassandra stares down at him. Her pulse pounds in her ears and she can’t quite dare to hope.

 

“Maker, Cassandra tell me you meant that,” he says.

 

Varric looks like a man who can’t trust the ground beneath his feet. His eyes search her face, hunting for what, she doesn’t know.

 

“I did. I do,” she tells him. “I- all I wanted was to come home. To you.”

 

Varric tugs on her arm, and she swings round to land back on the bed. The movement jars her injuries but it doesn’t matter because Varric-

 

Varric seems to have lost his glib tongue.

 

“Are you- Varric if you don’t feel the same way it’s fine. It won’t be awkward.”

 

“Cassandra. Just tell me, please. Tell me you mean what I think you mean because if you do-” he takes a breath. “I feel the same.”

 

“I love you,” Cassandra says.

 

Varric’s face lights up, the joy there incandescent. Cassandra reaches out, curves her hand around his jaw. Varric presses his face into her palm, covers her hand with his.

 

The moment’s spoiled by Cassandra’s jaw cracking yawn.

“My confession of undying love bores you, Seeker?” Varric asks. His teeth nip the base of her thumb.

 

“You haven’t confessed yet,” Cassandra points out. “And it has been a long day.”

 

“Demanding woman. What have I done?” Varric groans.

 

In bed, Cassandra shuffles over and lies down, patting the mattress with her hand. The bed dips beneath Varric’s weight, and Cassandra rolls into his side. Snuggling up against him, she rests her uninjured cheek against his shoulder. Varric presses a kiss onto her crown, and makes himself more comfortable.

 

“I love you,” he murmurs into her hair. Still smoky smelling, and greasy but Cassandra’s alive and she loves him. She could smell like rancid nug and he’d still love her.

 

That’s a scary thought he keeps to himself.

 

Cassandra’s silent, breathing slow and for a moment he thinks she’s fallen asleep.

 

“Varric? Where did you get that copy of Swords and Shields?” Cassandra asks, startling him.

 

“It’s mine. One of mine. I write,” Varric says.

 

Cassandra sighs. “I knew that. I just- I never told you I liked that series. How did you know?”

 

Varric laughs, and the sound rumbles through his chest.

 

“Lucky guess, Seeker.”

  
  


****

  
  


“So you and Varric, hmm?” Trevelyan says, with an eyebrow wiggle that they must’ve learned from Varric.

 

“Is it so strange?” Cassandra asks.

 

If her tone is defensive, Trevelyan has the grace not to comment. Though, with the misty eyed look Trevelyan is bestowing on her, Cassandra almost wishes for a snide comment. Far easier to brush off a joking remark than it is to face such honest emotion head on. That her own eyes become damp has nothing to do with anything.

 

Especially since Varric’s due home any minute and it won’t do to find her and Trevelyan weeping on one another.

 

They both sniff, and ignore the moment until it passes.

 

“Are you happy, Cassandra?” Trevelyan asks.

 

“I-” Cassandra stops, reconsiders whatever she was about to say.

 

“Yes. Absolutely.”

 

The sound of the door opening startles them both, and it’s with guilty expressions they greet Varric. For his part, he stands still in the doorway. His girlfriend (and isn’t that a hell of a thought), and her best friend sitting on the couch together is a sight that sends a goofy smile across his face. It’s irrational- he’s met Trevelyan hundreds of times, and Cassandra’s face is more familiar to him than his own. But nonetheless, his heart sings. Perhaps it is that they were so clearly talking about him beforehand.

 

Cassandra’s scar is livid against the skin of her cheek.

 

Some might consider it an ugly mark, a blot on an otherwise handsome face. To Varric, it is beautiful. Everything about Cassandra is beautiful to him. But it also reminds him to value what he has.

 

Cassandra’s warm eyes meet his, and Varric knows down to his bones that what they have is the most important thing in his life.

 

“Alright, well it’s about time for me to leave you two crazy kids,” Trevelyan says, stretching.

 

From Cassandra’s confused look, Varric knows that’s not what she expected. But Trevelyan has always been good at reading a room, and Varric’s grateful to them for making such a graceful exit.

 

Trevelyan stands and as Cassandra unfolds herself from the couch, she finds herself enveloped in a strong hug. With Trevelyan’s face buried against Cassandra’s neck, Varric can’t quite tell what they’re saying. It’s easy enough to get the gist of it from the way Cassandra crushes them close, though.

 

“Be good, Varric,” Trevelyan says.

 

Varric decides not to comment on the way Trevelyan’s leaning on him as they put their shoes on, or that there’s more weight behind that gesture than there usually is.

 

“Never am,” he says instead.

 

Trevelyan tsks, and that’s a noise they’ve definitely tried to steal from Cassandra.

 

When the door shuts, Varric stays put in front of it. Watches Cassandra sink back down onto the couch.

 

There are a thousand and one things he wants to say to her. All of them crowd in his throat, and overcome he says none of them. Rather, he crosses the room and takes his place at her side. Lifts her feet to rest them on his lap. Feigns surprise when instead she curls up with her head resting atop his. With his arm around her waist, Varric gathers her close.

 

“Happy, Seeker?”

 

Cassandra presses her lips against his temple, smiles.

  
“Yes.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is it everyone, thank you for reading and sticking with this AU of mine, I hope you all enjoyed yourselves!
> 
> <3 to everyone who encouraged me to keep writing this.

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm posting all my ridiculous fanfic on tumblr as well, please enjoy this silly au where Cassandra and Varric are roommates, and thank you for reading!


End file.
